


Wings Of A Butterfly

by germanjj



Category: Marvel (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2012-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:15:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/germanjj/pseuds/germanjj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is a myriad of moments. But only very few are turning points, made to twist and shape your life completely. Charles has waited decades to get a chance to go back to one of those moments. To get a chance to make something right. And maybe, just maybe, to save lost lives along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> written for the X-Men Big Bang on Livejournal
> 
> (set right after X-Men 2)

Grief.

Lying so thick in the air, Charles can taste it on his tongue. It vibrates through the rooms, through the very foundations of the mansion, humming in the heads of every student, every person in here.

He watches Logan follow Scott outside the room, making their way through the children flooding in, and Charles doesn't need to open his mind to them to know that they're not seeing anything.

Anything except their own grief.

He doesn't try to change that. Not now. He could alter their minds, could take away some of it. But that would feel a lot like cheating, would have the bitter tang of betrayal. He lets them grieve, lets them mourn.

A great love, after all, deserves an equally great feeling of loss.

Charles knows that, lives that, every day.

 

He is pulled back to the present when he feels the kids watching him, their minds eager and open, but none of them brave enough to speak up.

Grief.

He can sense it inside them, too. Can sense how they feel towards him and their teachers, their friends, and Charles smiles down at them, hope - for both them and humanity - bursting inside his chest.

 

And then, suddenly, there's something nudging against his mind. A soft touch, a hesitant call.

Charles straightens in his chair, turns to the window, away from the kids.

He opens his mind, answers.

 _"I found it,"_ a familiar voice says, strong enough to reach him across the distance, enhanced enough to ring clear and strong in Charles' mind. _"I think I found what you were looking for."_

Something inside Charles breaks. Something old and painful. Something he kept hidden so deep inside him, no one could see. It bursts open, _rips_ him open, like a wound that's never fully healed, leaving him laid bare.

"Professor?" One of the students asks. "Is everything alright?"

Charles turns around; having trouble containing himself for the first time he can remember. Shielding himself, so that those around him won't notice, won't feel everything right along with him.

"Yes," he answers, and he can't believe how good these words taste on his tongue. "I think it will be."

He takes a look at the students gathered around him, sees them with different eyes now. Sees the potential beyond what they can be in this world. Sees what they all could be in a world where the greatest enemy among their kind would stand by their side.

To guide them. To shape them. To lead them.

"Now, tell me. Have any of you read a book by the English novelist ..."

 

Grief.

It's not there to torture you over what you've lost, but to remind of the love you were given.


	2. one

\-- 1//1 --

 

"You wanted to see me?" Logan's footsteps fall heavily into the silence of the room, his voice booming between the walls. He's even more impatient than usual, more ... untamed; his grief mixing with anger and hatred and helplessness.

He's barely able to stand still.

"Yes, I did, thank you."

The carpets in Charles' office dampen the sound of Logan's footfalls, but the other man is vibrating with the need to get out of the mansion, itching, to spike up the adrenaline, to find something to replace the sorrow.

And still.

Charles tilts his head, taking a closer look at Logan. He senses something else too, even without breaching the other man's mind. Something's keeping him here.

No. Someone.

Charles clears his throat, shifting his gaze as he sees the face of the other person flash in his mind.

"How are you?" Charles asks him, being torn between knowing how ridiculous that sounds and genuine concern. He feels like a young man sometimes, out of his depth, helpless.

Logan doesn't answer, his face softening slightly.

Charles takes a breath. "I wanted to ask you a favor, Logan."

The other man nods shortly. "Okay."

"I need you to accompany me to visit an old friend of mine. You might even have met him before."

On the surface, Logan's posture doesn't change, but Charles can feel the relief coming off of him in waves.

"I'll get the car."

Charles nods. "Thank you."

And then he adds, letting it appear like an afterthought when Logan is almost out of the room: "And Logan? Can you please let Scott know that we will be gone for a few days?"

 

\-- 1//2 --

 

"She says, she's sorry, Professor Xavier." The woman says, even though Charles had explained to her that he is like her daughter in some way. Hinted at what he can do.

He shakes his head lightly, polite, smiling at the mother and then the girl.

While inside, the pain of lost hope is almost unbearable.

"Professor?" Hank steps forward as he speaks and Charles can't find the courage to look at him.

Of those who remain, with Sean dead, Alex being God-knows-where, with Moira out of the picture and Erik and Raven...

From everyone who's left, Hank is the only one who's able to see right through him, to understand what it really would have meant to Charles.

"I am so sorry," he says. "I wasn't sure how her ... talent worked exactly."

"But it would be ridiculous," he goes on, although Charles has long understood that. "You'd be eight years old. A kid. And Erik would be on another continent. How would you be able to do anything? To change anything for him?"

"I know," Charles answers.

He remembers that memory, one among thousands that are buried deep inside him. Not a memory of is own. Not the murder of Erik's mother. Not the separation at the gate.

No. This is from before.

Deep in the night, heavy fists banging against a door, ripping it wide open and letting the rain in. Where murderers dressed like soldiers break into Erik's home and capture him and his family.

Charles had wanted to change that. Had searched years and years for a chance. For hope.

The small voice of the girl rings clear in his mind, whispers "sorry" over and over, and Charles does what he must, smiles at her and buries his dream for the moment.

"It is alright, Bethany," he tells her in English, the voice of her mother filling the room as she translates. "You have an extraordinanary gift, young lady. And I know that you want to help me, and I feel very honoured for that."

"Okay, let me get this straight." Logan comes closer, giving up his spot as a guard by the door. "You wanted to jump back in time, save Magneto from his horrible past so he wouldn't become the evil bastard he is now?"

It stings, although Logan is partially right, although he has a point, even after all these years.

"I'd have phrased it a little bit differently," Charles nods, "but yes, that was what I intended to do."

"But her gift is only to send him back into his former body, with all his memory and knowledge, not to send him back," Hank explains.

Logan's eyes fall on Charles. He points at him. "So, you'd be stuck in a body of an eight year old kid, with weak powers, thousands of miles away from the guy you want to save."

Charles nods again. "If I'd go back to that time, yes."

"So why not go back to another time?"

 

\-- 1//3 --

It's a mistake.

Charles knows it deep down, knows that he's doing what is so unusual for him: grasping for a sliver of hope and jumping head-first into something he has no control over.

But he's taken the first step and is reluctant to go back now.

There is still a chance.

There are still other moments Charles can turn around, still other chances he has.

Charles looks at Bethany's innocent face, the girl not even aware of the power sleeping inside her.

He turns his head and looks at Logan, his mind only half focused on the here and now, shifting back without his will, and Charles can barely block his pain, mixing it up with his own.

They're all connected now.

Wires and cables between them, a complicated machine Hank has built. And although Bethany's power works by touch, with the amount of time Charles wants to travel back, they need more than that.

They need Logan's energy to spike up Bethany's, to enhance her power.

Charles isn't ready.

He can barely remember any times when he had been uncertain of what to do. Where he hadn't known the path was right once he had moved towards it.

This is one of those times.

And still.

Something is urging him on. Something wild and old and hidden inside him. The precious rest of his old self, back in the days when he had been young and restless, the world at the grasp of his fingertips.

Charles smiles to himself as Hank checks the cables one last time.

Bethany's mother is standing in a corner, a safer distance, her eyes firmly fixed on her daughter.

"Are you ready to start?" Charles thinks at her, turning to give her a smile.

She nods, biting down on her lips.

But her eyes are trusting, eager. She knows she can do this.

"Logan?" Charles asks and only gets a growl for his question.

Hank nods from the table he's taken a seat behind, a small screen now having replaced all the buttons and switches Charles remembers all too well from before.

Then Charles feels it.

Another present, two of them.

Charles looks up as the door opens, the same moment the wires start to buzz.

"Erik."

Bethany's mother enters the room, her eyes puffy and swollen from tears. She cries her daughter's name and runs to her, but Charles eyes travel to the other mother in the room, watches how she changes, her clothes vanishing, giving way to blue skin.

"Raven."

Logan stirs next to him, about to stand up, but something's keeping him in his chair, something tying him to the metal around him.

"Hello, Charles."

Erik appears at the door, swinging it open fully now, letting it hit the wall with a soft thud.

He's not wearing his helmet.

"Ah ah ah." Erik shakes his head, tipping against his temple.

Charles gasps when he feels the walls inside Erik's mind, keeping him out. It's been so long since he touched it.

"I learned a lot, Charles," Erik explains. "I can block your powers. For how long, I can't tell. But enough for now, isn't it?"

"And you trained Raven, too," Charles says, his voice not bitter but honest. He looks at her, smiling at the face that is now so unfamiliar to him.

Erik nods. "You know, I could always feel it when you enter my mind."

He takes a step towards the four of them, everyone in the room still tied to their seats. The wires keep making a sound. "And each and every time I wonder, what are you still looking for, Charles?"

"Now, professor," Bethany thinks, as loudly as she can, and Charles picks it up, sends her his okay.

"Hope, Erik," Charles replies, looking up to his friend. "Always hope."

And the he smiles as he feels Bethany, her powers traveling around him, through him.

He sees Erik's eyes widen as he understands what's happening.

But that's the last he sees before everything goes dark around him.

 

\-- 1//4 --

 

Charles opens his eyes, blinks - onetwothree times - until he draws in a sharp breath, needing to hold onto the sink before him not to fall.

To his knees.

Charles does it anyway, shakes, grabs for the walls so close around him but isn't able to hold on.

He folds up, on his knees, in the small confinements of this place as he realizes that he was able to fall.

That he had been standing.

Charles is dizzy, blood rushing in his ears, and he's still trying to control his breathing.

He manages to straighten up, reaches high enough to get the water running, to splash some of it onto his face.

It takes a lot more time until he's upright again, standing, and Charles doesn't dare to let go of the sink yet; it still feels weird to be on his own two legs.

He's on a plane he realizes, when his mind is clear enough again, in the tiny restroom, to be exact.

Charles looks around, looks down at his hands, down at his legs, then back into the mirror.

He's younger. So much younger.

Charles smiles shakily at his image in the mirror.

He has hair.

Charles opens his mind a fraction, just to feel around, and he feels him.

Immediately, inevitably him.

Charles chokes on his own breath, presses his eyes closed, and he's leaning against the small restroom door to get his bearings.

Erik is close. Only a few steps away.

His mind is guarded, shielded, exactly the way Charles remembers from then. Not the strong, cold walls Charles has grown used to over the years.

He fumbles the door open, looking down the small aisle, with rows of seats at the end of it.

Charles tries a first step, and feels stupid, childish tears burning in his eyes at the sensation of solid ground under his feet.

Of feeling anything under his feet.

But he keeps going, keeps walking, until his footfalls are almost sure, almost normal. He makes the first three rows of seats, steadying himself with his hands on the back rests.

Erik looks up when Charles reaches the fourth row.

Charles suddenly can't breathe again.

 

\-- 1//5 --

 

"Charles, you can't try again. If you throw up one more time, I'm afraid it will be some vital organs." Erik's words don't make sense for a moment, but he means it; Charles can feel the sincerity bleed through, can feel the tinge of worry.

"I ... I'm sorry, what?" Charles asks, tripping over his words. His throat aches, it's so dry.

Erik gets up from his seat. He walks over to him, catches both of his elbows in his hands, and leads him carefully to his seat.

Charles is stunned into silence. He cannot look away, cannot keep his eyes off Erik, who looks so young, so different, who's touching him like nothing happened between them.

"We have to trust the children to take care of themselves," Erik goes on, takes the seat facing Charles'.

Charles still doesn't understand.

He keeps on looking, keeps on staring, until Erik's eyes travel up and meet his. Charles recognizes the tinge of his friend's cheeks; Erik is blushing under Charles' gaze, and suddenly he feels embarrassed.

Charles shifts his eyes to the floor.

He is overwhelmed.

His emotions are sharper here, deeper. His thoughts jangle in his head, and he struggles not to let them bleed into Erik's mind, fighting to stay out of his friend's head.

He feels like a little boy, unused to his powers, unused to the world crashing down on him uninvited.

Charles draws a deep breath.

He understands it now, Bethany's gift. He isn't just back in his old body. He is his old self; with all his old flaws, his insecurities, and all his hopes. He just barely took his memory with him.

Worry flickers through him. He hopes he didn't leave all his powers behind.

He looks back at Erik again, who's still watching him in concern.

"Charles?" Erik asks.

Charles nods. "I am sorry, Erik, I don't feel very good right now."

Erik takes a look at his watch. "Another few hours until Washington. Then we'll find out what Shaw did."

It takes another moment, one precious moment, and suddenly it's all rushing back to him.

Russia. Emma. Shaw.

"We're heading back from Russia," Charles mumbles, panic gripping him.

"Sorry, what?" Erik leans towards him.

Charles swallows heavily.

"Darwin!"

 

\-- 1//6 --

 

"Jesus, man. You are killing me."

Alex smiles at Darwin's words, but he doesn't look up; he keeps his eyes firmly on the game. "Don't beat yourself up. I had a lot of spare time."

This, here, is easy. This is something he can do, something he's good at.

Darwin though, makes him a little nervous. People in general make him nervous and Alex had got used to being alone back in juvie, and the sudden change messes with his mind.

The other kids are nice, mostly.

Although, Angel freaks him out a little, and Sean seems kind of crazy. But they're nice to him, accept him the way he is, and that's certainly something Alex isn't used to.

But Darwin is... different.

He's actually making an effort to be his friend.

Alex doesn't really know what to do about that.

"Whoohoo!" Darwin is laughing as the machine keeps beeping, counting points without a minute's pause.

Alex glances at him for a second, feeling a grin spread across his face. He has to admit that it feels good to have someone cheering him on.

 

"Don't be afraid," a sudden voice echoes inside his head, and Alex startles, jerks, and he's missing a cue, the ball almost getting kicked out of the game.

"Act normal," the voice says, only this time Alex recognizes the professor.

Alex swallows heavily, his eyes flickering up to Darwin who is still watching him, whose smile has faltered just a little.

Alex grins up at him, flicks his wrist just so that he's back in the game and the sound of the bells counting his points drown out the rushing in his ears for a moment.

"I have to warn you," Charles says, and it's insane, it's crazy to hear him talking inside his own head.

"Aren't you in Russia?" Alex thinks hard, hoping that this works both ways.

"We're on our way back, but we've got no time, Alex, listen." Charles sounds urgent.

Alex clears his throat. "Alright," he thinks.

"Whatever happens, you have to stop Darwin from following Angel. No matter what you do, he can't try anything."

Alex' eyes shoot up to his new friend, worry already churning in his guts. He doesn't understand.

"Promise me, Alex. You have to stop him."

Alex' mouth is suddenly dry now. Darwin is standing close, all his concentration focused on the game, on Alex' hands, and Alex risks a glance.

"What's going to happen?" he thinks loudly inside his own mind. He can't take his eyes away from Darwin.

"No time to explain, just ... be safe, Alex."

Then the voice is gone. Alex can feel the absence immediately and he draws in a sharp breath, wants to reach out to it again. He wants answers.

There's a sound behind them. Outside. Something heavy hitting the ground.

Darwin straightens next to him.

"What was that?" his friend asks and Alex's heart doubles its pace.

"Oh no, something doesn't feel right," Darwin murmurs as he turns, putting his hand on Alex's belly for a moment, before he heads for the window.

Alex can't move, can't breathe for a precious second.

Then all hell breaks loose.

 

\-- 1//7 --

 

"My friends, there's a revolution coming." The man walks closer, radiating danger, and Alex tries his best not to cower behind Darwin.

They're all huddled together, all of them scared.

"... then by definition you are against us."

For a moment, Alex thinks about calling the professor in his head, reaching out to him like he had done to Alex, but the professor is on a plane somewhere over Europe. Even he won't be able to help.

"Are you kiddin' me?"

Alex blinks, snapping out of it when he watches Angel taking the guy's hand, walking away from them.

Something inside him sets the alarm bells off.

"We have to do something," Sean says and then Alex gasps, everything crashing into place and he knows exactly what he needs to do. What the professor wants him to do.

Alex watches Angel take position next to Sebastian Shaw, her face stone cold and unreadable now.

There's a moment of indecision in his guts, a second of doubt. He can't let her go. Can't let her fall into Shaw's hands so easily.

But then Darwin turns around, grabbing for Alex's arm and he's trying to tell him something, a message hidden in his eyes.

Alex struggles against the grip, but Darwin doesn't let him, his hands holding him strong and unyielding.

Alex understands. He knows what Darwin's plan is, hears the others already rushing to the other side of the room, looking for cover.

But he can't.

With a sudden clarity, a sudden determination, he knows that he can't let Darwin do anything to help her.

Alex stays strong, shaking his head.

I won't let you do this, he thinks, hoping against better judgement that Darwin will understand him.

The other man's face changes, shifting into confusion.

"No," Alex bites out between his lips. "It's too dangerous," he murmurs, Darwin blocking the view to Shaw, but Shaw and his men are still there, still a threat, and Alex can feel his heart pounding in his chest.

"No!" he says again, this time being the one gripping the other guy's arm.

Darwin gives in.

He turns around, facing Shaw now, standing so close to Alex now that their shoulders are touching.

"What?" Shaw asks, tilting his head with a wolfish grin. "No one else?"

They all keep silent.

"Wrong choice," Shaw hisses, and then he's grabbing the hands of the people around him, all of them building a weird sort of chain, until a sound breaks through the air, like something exploding.

Then they're gone.

 

\-- 1//8 --

 

"Raven!" Charles sees her first, sees her as soon as the car stops and he can set a foot on the ground.

She's beautiful, innocent and young, and so, so beautiful.

She's his sister. She's his Raven.

Charles pulls her into his arms, his chest aching as he's pressing her against him, not willing to ever let go.

She even smells the way Charles remembers, feels like the little kid he had always been so proud of, so protective of.

He doesn't even want to count the days back to the last time he's seen her, let alone talked to her.

"Are you alright?" Charles grabs her by her shoulders, catching her eyes.

Raven nods but he can see a storm raging in them, can see the shock on his sister's face.

"They killed everyone but us," a voice says, and Charles' head shoots up.

"Darwin," he breathes, relief immediately flooding through him . "Are you okay?" He looks around, counts in his head. They're all here. "Is everyone alright?"

He earns a nod from all of them, but they're not.

Charles can feel it, vibrating in the air. They're shocked, tired, deeply scared.

Just the way he remembers.

Charles allows his gaze to linger on the one person he can't remember standing here the last time.

He swallows heavily. It's already worth it, seeing him among the children. Seeing him standing close to Alex and Raven as if he's trying to comfort them. To protect them.

"How did you do it?" a sudden voice enters his mind, loud enough that Charles doesn't have to reach out to hear it. "How did you know?"

He looks over to Alex, meets the young man's eyes.

Alex is troubled, anger barely being restrained under the surface. He's more shocked than everyone else.

"Not now, Alex. Please," Charles tells him soundlessly. "You did well. Thank you."

"What are we going to do now?" Hank asks, but Charles can feel all eyes resting on him questioningly.

It's a decision he's allowed to make again.

He takes a moment, his eyes traveling over the battlefield Shaw has left behind: bricks and stones, some bigger than cars, strewn all around. He looks at the group of children sitting amidst that mess; he looks at Erik, who's waiting for an answer too.

"We need to avenge this," Erik says, looking directly into Charles' eyes, daring him to say something different.

Charles doesn't say anything this time, he already knows what Erik wants, what Erik feels about this.

Charles is looking at their little group and sees a family, Erik sees an army.

"I'm not going back to jail," Alex says quietly from his spot next to Darwin.

"You're not going back," Sean and Darwin say in unison.

Hank looks from them to Charles. "But we have nowhere to go."

It's not really a decision. It wasn't back then, it isn't now. This is one thing Charles is sure he did right.

"Yes. We do."


	3. two

\-- 2//1 --

 

Erik stops in the middle of the hall, listening to the echo of his own footsteps dying slowly in the distance.

He's alone here, in this part of the house; the kids are all keeping to each other in one of the TV rooms on the other side. At this time of day, Charles is somewhere talking business with Moira, and Erik steals some time for himself.

He likes it.

Likes being alone; solitude is a familiar companion, more so than being surrounded by so many people. He savors this time of day, before the training starts, before the kids get demanding and bitchy and excited and adventurous and before Erik looses himself in Charles' little dream of saving them all.

Of getting them a better life.

Erik sighs.

Since the moment he met Charles, there have been times when Erik has wanted to believe him more than anything else in the world.

But life will always prove him wrong. Always.

 

"Erik."

A voice bounces of the walls and Erik turns to find Charles standing at the other end of the corridor, hands buried in the pockets of his trousers, looking up at him, open and friendly.

Erik tries to remember who else has ever looked at him like that.

He doesn't come up with many.

"I was hoping you would join the training session again," Charles asks, and he sounds hesitant, as if Erik didn't join every training session in the last three days.

Erik raises an eyebrow, not walking up to Charles, not closing the distance yet. "Is Hank done with Sean's little wings?"

Charles snorts, looking down. "I'm afraid Sean will need some time to get it right. We'll have to help him until he does. I believe he will be an extraordinary flyer once he's found the right ... scream."

Erik nods. "He most certainly will be."

 

\-- 2//2 --

 

"Let me see," Alex says, grinning at Raven as he pushes her a little to the side, wriggling until he can lean out far enough to look at the other window.

Sean is already sitting on the sill, his legs dangling against the outside wall. Alex can see Hank and the professor at either side of him, hears them talking to Sean.

"Now remember, scream as hard as you can," the professor starts.

Hank continues with the explanation. "You need the sound waves to be supersonic. Catch them at the right angle and they should carry you."

Alex chuckles, can't keep himself from giggling at the sight of the poor kid, strapped into one of Hank's weird machines, hanging on for dear life.

Alex glances sidelong, and narrowly avoids gaping when he sees that even Erik's wearing a grin on his face.

"They should carry me - that's really reassuring," they hear Sean mumble. Both Erik and Alex snort, trying to hold their laughter in. Raven doesn't even try and giggles wholeheartedly.

Alex has a moment of ... belonging, a weird, scary moment that's gone the next second, pressed between Erik and Raven, fitting together in that small window, looking out.

"Come on, my turn, guys," another voice says, and before Alex can turn around, Erik takes a step back, making room for Darwin, who wriggles between Alex and Raven, pushing Alex this time, to get a better view.

Alex lets himself be moved, laughter on his lips that suddenly dies in his throat, as Darwin presses fully against him.

Something ... happens.

His breathing hitches and he hopes that Raven didn't notice, that Darwin didn't. The other man's chest is burning into his back, broad and warm and alive, and Alex swallows, stays stock still, trying desperately not to move.

He feels weird, strange, to be this extremely aware of Darwin behind him.

He can feel him breathing.

Alex closes his eyes and swallows thickly as Darwin laughs out loud and the vibrations render through his own body.

What the hell is wrong with him?

"And don't forget to scream," the professor advises Sean, right when Alex is stepping back. Slipping away from his spot by the window, putting some distance between him and them. He feels rage bubble up inside him, a reaction to the confusion he's feeling, and that's not good. Rage is not good.

"Hey, Alex, what's up?" Darwin calls after him, but Alex disappears around the next corner, not even waiting to see if Sean makes it out of the window in one piece.

 

\-- 2//3 --

 

"All right," Raven says, pushing and prodding until she's seemingly pleased with her position, cuddled against Charles, resting her head against his shoulder.

Charles slouches further down into the couch, finding the right angle. He feels Raven's hair tickle his neck, can smell that soft, feminine, familiar scent.

He's missed her. God, how much he's missed her.

It's been a long day, a long, exhausting day for Charles, and he can't remember the last time his body ached this way, a deep throbbing in his bones that felt both satisfying and painful.

"Are you going to tell me about what happened in Russia?" Raven asks into Charles' thoughts, eyes closed and already sounding sleepy, but still curious, and for a moment Charles is deeply confused.

"What do you mean?"

Raven doesn't bother to open her eyes. "Between you and Erik. Ever since you're back, something's different."

Charles tentatively peaks into her mind, only nudging the surface, only grasping what she's offering up easily.

He is completely puzzled when he sees what she's hinting at.

He and Erik being...

... Lovers.

Charles is grateful that Raven can't see him. He feels his face heating up like a little schoolboy's, although, she's clearly wrong in her assumptions.

He and Erik romantically involved - what a ridiculous thought.

Still, he didn't realize how much is displayed on his face, all the time, for his sister to see. Didn't think about how much this Raven, here, knows him.

"There's nothing to tell you," he manages, and wonders briefly why his voice won't work the way he wants it to.

"Please," she snorts, and it's her only response.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Raven," Charles brushes it off, hoping it will be the end of it.

It's not like she's so far off. Charles feels deeply for Erik, ever has. Before everything, before the beach and the bullet, Erik had been a true friend and Charles cared about him. And that never changed.

But Raven can't dig deeper, can't ask further. Her assumptions may be wrong, but her questioning Charles' new behavior clearly isn't.

Raven is quiet for a moment, seemingly thinking it over. But then she grabs his hand, puts it in-between hers. She still hasn't opened her eyes, content to lie cuddled up against her brother's shoulder.

"You can tell me, Charles. Are you in love with Erik?"

Charles' heart stops beating for a moment. Then he laughs awkwardly.

"Of course not, Raven, why would you think that?" He clears his throat, his free hand fumbling at the collar of his shirt.

"You have a certain way of looking at him. A new way."

And yes, yes, Raven is probably right about that. Charles certainly tries to act as normal as he can remember but he has never been really good at pretending so some of his worry about Erik must be bleeding into the Charles he is here. Now.

"Erik is a friend. A good friend." He tries to make this clear, ignoring the painful thud his heart makes in his chest.

Charles sighs when Raven keeps quiet.

She drops the subject, but Charles' mind keeps turning it over and over.

They don't talk any more. Charles suspects that Raven has fallen asleep; he watches the hand on her stomach rise and fall in a soothing rhythm, listens to her soft breathing.

In a moment he will get up, cover his sister with one of the warmer blankets and leave her to retreat to his own room. But for now he is happy having her here with him, trying to banish all thoughts of Erik from his mind, for this precious moment he will never get back.

It doesn't really work.

 

\-- 2//4 --

 

Charles' legs feel heavy. Like they're old and tired, used, or brand new, and he doesn't know how to use them at all.

On the outside he must look calm and collected. But inside, he needs all his concentration to steady his steps.

He's not drunk, he didn't even drink enough; hasn't comsumed enough for decades to feel that way.

But he feels drunk with ... everything else.

The ache inside his chest;the thrumming of his heart every time he sets eyes on Raven, or glimspes Erik from the corner of his eye. He's drunk from the sweaty palms and the racing pulses; the laughter, the grinning, the joy. He's drunk from having familiar faces smile at him in the morning, and give him a high five when they achieve something. He is drunk from walking, from being able to move on his own two feet, from being able to feel with his whole body.

He's drunk from being around the people he's missed every single day of his life.

It's getting too much.

Charles, in his arrogance, had underestimated what it would mean to go back. To be back inside a body that would feel differently, act differently, desire differently.

Every sensation is something new and strong and powerful here, not dulled and cloaked in numbness like he had been getting used to. Like age and control had offered him.

Charles can't deal with it.

It's as simple as that.

He might be one of the most powerful mutants on the planet but he can't deal with having his body back, his family, his love, his life.

Charles stops, and stares ahead of him for a long moment.

He's not even close to his own bedroom, which risedes minutes and staircases away on the other side of this wing.

It's Erik's door he has reached. The one he's looking at, the one his fingers ache to touch, to push open.

His subconscious has led him here. Charles swallows thickly.

Erik's not back yet, and Charles doesn't know when he will be. He didn't leave last time, but then again...

... so much is different already.

Darwin's alive; a strong part of the group and a close friend to Alex, who doesn't mock Hank as often as a result.

Charles only wishes he knew what to do to make Raven not hate him in the end. To make Erik stay.

His hand touches the cold metal of the door knob, turning it before he even realizes what he's doing.

He enters the room, closing the door behind and leaning against it.

It's clean in here, almost entirely devoid of personal effects. It feels empty.

If Charles didn't know better, he would have thought no one was using it. All the same, he can see Erik in this place everywhere - in the neatly folded bed sheets. The tidy condition of his wardrobe.

It smells like Erik in here.

It feels like him.

Charles unconsciously touches a hand to his heart, kneading the spot, swallowing heavily. It aches and it hurts, and it doesn't stop, and Charles doesn't know how to make it stop. Here, he is this raw, unprotected mess, and he didn't know that it would be that way.

He didn't know that he had missed Erik this much.

His legs carry him forward, covering the distance in just a few steps. His knees hit the bed first. He doesn't think about it, doesn't hesitate, just pulls the covers back and crawls between it.

The scent of Erik is stronger here, warmer, although morning is long gone and it should have faded by now. Maybe Charles is only imagining this, letting his own desires form his perception.

The sheets are soft where they touch his skin, and they slice him open and leave him raw with every passing inch as he buries himself deep in Erik's bed.

He starts crying for his friend for the first time since that day on the beach.


	4. three

\-- 3//1 --

 

It's a surprise - and Erik can't remember the last time something or someone was able to surprise him - to find Charles sleeping in Erik's bed as he comes back to the mansion.

Erik is never one to make much noise, so he doesn't wake his friend with his entrance.

He closes the door behind himself, already moving to slip out of his coat, his eyelids heavy with the need to sleep.

He freezes when his gaze falls on the familiar body occupying his bed.

Charles is soundly asleep from what Erik can see; his face turned towards him, eyes closed and his forehead scrunched as if whatever he's dreaming of isn't pleasant.

Erik wants to reach out. The urge is so sudden, so overwhelming, it freezes him to the spot. His heart is thudding in his chest, emotions long suppressed waking up in an instant, as if seeing Charles asleep, so vulnerable and innocent, is hitting a spot Erik was sure he had buried it under years and years of pain.

He stands in the middle of the room, taking in the sight of Charles, looking so young, so ... breakable, all tangled up in Erik's sheets, hands buried beneath the fabric.

The pale moon sheds a bundle of light on him, illuminating the curve of his back, a small part of his face.

Erik has to close his eyes, clenching his hands to fists, as he recognizes the traces of tears on Charles' cheeks.

He hesitates, reluctant to stay but not turning to leave.

In the end, he steps forward to reach the bed, drawing up the bed sheet, covering Charles against the night chill. He leaves the room without a backwards glance.

He goes downstairs, planning to spend the short rest of the night down in the kitchen. There is no chance of finding any sleep now.

He finds Alex there.

The young man starts, caught with the milk carton in his hand, the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes.

"You're up early." Erik states, and passes him, taking his own glass from the cupboard and the milk out of Alex' hand, and sits down on a chair.

Alex stares at him for a moment, then shrugs. "Couldn't sleep."

It's obvious what's been keeping this boy awake and Erik contemplates telling him head on. There are other things he should be worried about, other things that should keep him up at night.

Alex's feelings for a certain boy sleeping upstairs shouldn't be among them.

"Your friends will be up soon," Erik says, just to say something, to cause a reaction. He watches Alex biting down on his lip, making an effort not to meet Erik's eyes.

Erik can't decide if he's ashamed of what he's feeling or simply afraid of Erik like most of the other kids.

"I'm gonna go practice," Alex replies, glancing somewhere off to the side. "See you later."

"Alex." Erik waits for the boy stop in his tracks, waits for him to meet his gaze. "Never be afraid of who you are."

He gets a quick nod in respons and Erik knows the boy didn't understand him. There's still a flutter of pride inside him though, that the kid is finally learning, finally showing signs of being proud of what he is.

Erik smiles. "Yes, I mean your abilities, too."

Wide eyes stare at him, and then Alex starts blushing, the red tinge spreading over his cheeks up to his ears, as he finally understands the true meaning of Erik's words.

The young man all but runs out of the kitchen.

 

3//2

 

Charles feels utterly embarrassed once he's awake enough to recall all the details that had led him to fall asleep in Erik's bed. He realizes Erik must have caught him the second he meets his friend outside the mansion. The second he sees the flicker of ... something in the other man's eyes. It takes a great effort not to peak inside Erik's mind to find out what he thinks.

But he needs to keep his focus on the task at hand, on Sean climbing up the steps of the satellite dish.

And he needs the time to sort his own mind, to figure out what he's feeling, what's been haunting him, before he can turn to Erik.

Climbing up behind Sean, knowing Erik is behind him, he feels like it's already decades too late for that.

 

They watch Sean fly, hear him shout his joy into the air. It's not less remarkable than the first time, not less satisfying.

Charles stands beside Erik, Hank behind them, and watches the young boy fly, still concerned for his safety.

And his heart is collecting that much more hope when he notices all of Erik's concentration focused on the young man, ready to step in if he so much as falters.

Charles can feel it humming around him, like a faint echo, like the same echo he had greedily buried himself in last night.

"I am ... so very sorry," Charles mumbles, knowing full well that Erik will know what he means.

He dares to glance up at his friend, waiting for Erik to comment on what he's surely witnessed, waiting for the mocking to begin.

But Erik turns his gaze away, looking into the distance, where Sean is still high up in the air.

"You have no reason to," it's his answer and he leaves Charles with even more confusion than before.

 

3//3

 

"You can't be serious!" Alex shouts over the distance, watching Darwin's face break into a grin.

Darwin's laughter bounces off the walls of the bunker. "I'm totally serious! I'm invincible, remember?"

Alex shakes his head, clenching his hands. "Yeah, still not gonna do it."

Anger is already starting to crawl up his spine, familiar and welcomed, like an old friend he can't let go of, even though he knows how bad he is for him. But he fears it in here, with Darwin standing over on the other side. He's still way too close. They're exhausted and tired, they've been training all morning, Darwin getting quicker and better with blocking anything Alex can come up with.

But this is going too far.

"I'm not using my powers on you!" Alex folds his arms, trying to make a point, although he feels more like a petulant child when Darwin steps closer, mild annoyance clouding the other man's features.

"Don't be such a pussy," Darwin mocks him, and Alex hates how easily the other guy seems to know how to rile him up. "I can handle it, I promise!"

Alex still shakes his head. "Not doing it."

"You can't keep throwing knives and glass at me and call it training, Alex. I gotta really work with something." He's taking more steps towards him. "And you have a power that's really gonna challenge me. So do it, man, come on!"

"Darwin, please." Alex clenches his jaw, feeling his skin tingle already, feeling the power building in the centre of his body.

"Erik and the professor are right outside - what do you think can happen?"

"No."

"One try."

"No."

"Just once, Alex, come on."

"I said no."

"You have to train to focus anyway."

Alex lowers his gaze to the floor. "You haven't seen what happened when the professor first brought me down here."

Darwin's expression shifts. "I am invincible, Alex," he says, his voice completely serious now. "Fire won't harm me. Let me help you while you're helping me, okay? I'll be standing over there and you try not to hit me. If you still do, I'll shield my body. I promise."

His resolve is crumbling, Alex knows it. The truth is - he wants to give in. He wants to use his powers. He wants to get better with them.

"All right."

"Yes!" Darwin pumps a fist in the air, jogging back to the other side of the bunker. "Ready when you are!" he shouts.

Alex takes a deep breath. He unclenches and clenches his fists again, shifting his feet.

"All right," he mumbles, then masses up his powers and ...

... let's them go.

The bunker is immediately filled with fire, hot and suffocating. But it doesn't stay this time, doesn't keep burning around him, and Alex blinks against the smoke.

"Darwin? Are you okay?"

He hears the laughter first, before he can see him, slowly getting back to his feet.

"That was awesome!" Darwin grins, brushing the dust off his clothes.

"Are you hurt?" Alex insists, still not able to calm down.

Darwin spreads his arms wide, turning around himself. "Not a scratch," he laughs, meeting Alex's worried gaze.

"Again."

Alex laughs out loud and it looses something in his chest, let's him breathe just that little bit better. He mirrors Darwin's smile, all his concern pushed in the very back of his mind.

"Okay."

 

Alex shoots another burst of power, Darwin blocking it easily. They train like this all through lunch, forgetting everything around them. And they keep getting better. Darwin get's quicker building up his walls, gets them stronger and shielding him all the way.

With Darwin chasing Alex through the bunker, playing the moving target, Alex eventually manages not to set the whole thing on fire everytime he releases his power.

"One more," Darwin whispers, this time right behind Alex, and he's completely out of breath, his words hitting Alex's neck, raising the litte hairs on his skin.

"We should stop, man," Alex laughs, letting his head fall back, resting it on Darwin's shoulder for just a moment. Then he stumbles forward as Darwin pushes him playfully.

"Come on, this is fun!"

Alex shakes his head, turning around, as the other man walks towards him again, crowding him against the wall.

"Dude, enough already." Alex pushes back, both of them tussling through the bunker, hard work and endless training turning into stupid laughter and easy touches.

"We should try it from behind," Darwin says, then immediately starts laughing hysterically, Alex joining in.

"I meant you shootin' your power and me trying to block it with my back turned to you."

Alex nods, grinning. "Yeah, that's absolutely what you meant," he deadpanns but he can't follow through, can't keep a straight face long enough to convince Darwin he is serious.

The other man pushes him again, a little harder than maybe he intended to and Alex loses his balance, grabbing for something to get a hold on, and it's Darwin's sleeve he catches, pulling him right with him as he falls hard to the ground.

"Ugh," Alex moans, his back hitting the floor and a pain shooting up his spine. Darwin lands right on top of him, his reflexes thankfully quick enough to make him reach out and catch his own fall with his hands.

"Are you alright?" Darwin asks, only an inch away. He feels strong on top of Alex, stronger than Alex would have thought. And warm.

Almost ... comfortable.

Alex clears his throat, a sharp pain shooting through his head as he moves it. "Yeah," he groans.

"Hit your back pretty hard," Darwin says, his voice low suddenly, intimate. "And your head, too?"

Alex swallows. He nods and the movement is only causing more pain.

Something's stirring inside him, something weird causing his stomach to flutter.

"Okay, get up, man, you're heavy," Alex says, half-heartedly trying to push Darwin off of him.

Darwin doesn't move.

"Come on, man," Alex urges him on, his voice already getting a dangerous edge.

Darwin only keeps staring, a weird glance in his eyes that makes Alex more nervous, more restless.

"Get off!" he shouts, and he's not even intending to, it just breaks out of him, just like the burst of power, shooting right out of his chest.

And Darwin right off him.

Alex gets up immediately, is on his feet even before the other man is coming to a halt on the other side of the bunker. He reaches Darwin before he can think, pulling him around, looking for injuries.

Darwin groans, clearly in pain, and Alex's panic rises, his hands frantically moving over Darwin's torso, pushing the fabric of his shirt aside.

A hand stills him.

"Alex," Darwin says, holding his fingers and looking right at him.

"Just a scratch," he tells him and Alex looks down, finds the thin rail of blood right on Darwin's hip, vanishing underneath the waistband of his jeans.

"I'm fine," Darwin says again, "It's just a scratch, man, don't worry."

But Alex stumbles back, watching in horror as Darwin gets up, carefully pulling his shirt over the wound.

"Alex, come on."

But Alex doesn't even hear him, doesn't stop walking backwards until he's hitting the door. He turns around and leaves the bunker, taking two steps at once until he's above ground, Darwin's shouts following him right after.

 

3//4

 

"Are you sure?" Erik blinks against the sun shining into his eyes. They're behind the mansion, around them nothing but a field of grass and trees, the sun standing high in the sky.

It's purely idyllic. And it's their home now.

Charles keeps fighting with the urge to dive into Erik's head to find out if he's feeling it too.

He nods to Erik's question. "I am. Darwin is right. I can't encourage you all to train your powers and be the only one not making the same effort."

They're alone here, the kids are off, having showers or eating lunch after a strenuous morning of training. They both had been supervising the kids. Now it's time to get to their own training.

Charles easily admits to himself how much he enjoys his time alone with Erik. Especially when they are training together and Erik's only focus rests on Charles.

"Alright, what did you have in mind?" Erik looks curious now, almost eager.

Charles shrugs. The idea had only come to him that morning. "I don't know. I was thinking a wider range, but I'm not sure ..." He stops in his tracks, watching Erik's face as the other man takes a step towards him.

There's a sudden gleam in Erik's eyes Charles doesn't know whether to like or fear. "I have an idea. Do you trust me?"

And it all comes down to that. Charles swallows heavily, he can't help it, and Erik's gaze is right on him, he couldn't have missed it.

Erik's face tells him nothing.

"Yes," Charles says eventually, head held high and meeting his friend's eyes, and he finds that it is nothing but the truth.

Erik doesn't reply, only seems to study him a moment longer, before a small grin appears on his lips.

Charles' heartbeat picks up.

"What are you doing?" he asks, when he notices the thin iron bars flying up through the air to him. They look suspiciously like coming right from one of the bed frames.

Erik flicks two of them in front of Charles, stops them with a quick move of his hand. "You're still tipping your finger to your temple. It's a crutch," he explains. "You should start trying without it."

Charles is speechless for a moment, something tickling through his whole body as the iron bends easily around his hands, pulling them behind is back, binding them together.

"You mean like you reach out when you're manipulating metal?" he means it to sound careless and cocky, but Charles can hear the tremor in his own voice.

Erik's answering smile and the tilt of his head make Charles shiver. "Touché, my friend. But today's lesson is about you."

Charles swallows, feels sweat covering his hands. "Okay," he says, widens his stance on the soft grass. "What do you want me to do?"

"Tell me where Raven is in the house right now."

Charles concentrates. He clears his throat, shaking his head and scrunching up his forehead.

It's harder like this, much harder, but Charles still technically knows how to do this, his ability more connected to memory than to his body.

"In the gym," Charles finally says, looking at Erik again.

The other man smiles. Of course, Erik has no way to confirm Charles' answer. But they both know that he wouldn't lie. Charles can see the open fascination with his powers on Erik's face.

Erik's enjoying this. He takes a step closer.

The iron tightens around Charles' hands, sending a jolt of pain through his body. Charles' heart jumps.

"What about Sean?"

Charles tries to concentrate again, but it gets harder with Erik closer, his steady gaze making Charles somehow lose focus.

Charles reaches out, crossing the distance in slow-motion. His mind is travelling up the stairs, then down, something getting more and more familiar when he's following one of the hallways.

"He's in the kitchen," Charles says. His throat is starting to go dry.

"What is he eating?" Erik's voice pulls him out again, and for a moment Charles can't remember the question, his ability open and vulnerable, not directed and in control, so it's latching onto Erik, trying to crawl up inside him.

Charles pulls back as soon as he realizes it, but not before he feels the touch of Erik licking his lips on his own.

"Concentrate," Erik whispers, and Charles suspects that Erik knows full well what just happened.

Charles breaks eye contact, focuses a spot on the ground instead. "Nothing," Charles has the answer eventually. "He's drinking cola." He receives a slow smile when he dares to look up again.

"Well, done." He takes another step, now practically looming over Charles, blocking out the sun.

Then Erik leans down.

"What... what are you doing?" Charles demands; he blushes at the sound of his voice, high-pitched and nervous.

"Now tell me," Erik whispers, ignoring the question completely, his lips almost brushing Charles' ear and Charles has to try hard not to shiver. "Where is Alex?"

Charles clears his throat, blinking heavily. He opens his mind, lets it travel back into the house, but it's harder this time, he's slipping in and out of focus while Erik keeps talking.

"Try to find him and tell me what he's doing. Can you do that with your hands tied up? And with my voice in your ear?"

The other man's breath puffs against Charles' skin with every word and Charles seems to be drawn to the man in front of him instead of the one he's looking for.

Charles clenches his teeth, tries harder.

"He's in the hall," he tells Erik, who hasn't moved, who keeps asking the same question over and over again. "Outside the bathroom. Waiting."

"Who's inside the bathroom?"

Charles lets his mind jump to the other side of the wall, startles and loses focus completely. "Darwin is having a shower."

Charles can almost feel Erik's grin on the side of his face, can feel it raising goose bumps on his own skin.

"What is Alex thinking?"

"Erik, I don't think I can ..."

"Try," comes the order, and the metal around his hands moves. It's like a slow caress, carefully tightening its hold.

Tension prickles the nape of Charles' neck, his pulse racing now. There's a headache forming, and he finds it harder and harder to concentrate. He feels trapped, caged, with Erik crowding him.

And Charles is desperately waiting for the impulse to break free, for instinct to take over and compel him to make Erik stop.

It doesn't come.

"Try it, Charles," Erik repeats against his ear.

Charles takes a deep breath. He finds Alex again, still standing in the hallway. It's hard to take a look into the young man's mind, Charles tries once, twice, three, four times, finally, before he breaches the surface.

There's worry there. Guilt.

Charles can see images from earlier in the day. Of he and Darwin training, fighting. They blur and another images appears: Hank and his laboratory. They jumble together, switching so fast it makes Charles dizzy.

There's a determination in Alex's thoughts, a vague feeling growing stronger and stronger.

Alex looks at the door to the bathroom and the images inside the boy's head change.

He sees Darwin. Naked. Water dripping off his body. His face turned down. Then Darwin's hand sliding down his chest.

Charles gasps; he pulls out of Alex's head immediately and then falters, losing his balance.

Erik catches him by his shoulders, worry clouding his face.

"What happened?" he asks, and Erik's still holding on to him, steadying him, and Charles feels the warmth of his hands burning through his shirt, the contact much more intimate with the echo of Alex's thoughts and feelings in the back of Charles' mind.

"Charles!" Erik shakes him gently. "What happened?"

Charles shakes his head. "Nothing," he tells Erik. He doesn't dare move, he's trying to control the surfe of lust that just went through him. He still doesn't know how much came from within him. "Thoughts are private for a reason, Erik."

He sounds harsh, and Erik finally pulls back, but when Charles looks up, there's another smile on his friend's face. "So, you managed it then? You read his thoughts?"

"Yes, but I shouldn't have." Charles tries to move his hands, the metal still clinging to it. "Now would you kindly do me a favor, and let me go, please?"

 

3//5

 

"Come in," Hank calls, and still Alex hesitates to open the door. He has his hands on the knob, his eyes closed, counting to ten.

Hank looks surprised when he sees him enter, and Alex lets his eyes wander around the lab. He's never been in here before, which is part of the reason why he feels so uncomfortable.

"Please don't touch anything," Hank tells him coldly, shifting his focus back to the microscope in front him.

"Uhm." Alex takes another step, careful not to brush against any of the scary looking machines and instruments around him. "I am .... I need."

Hank looks up again.

"I need your help." Alex says finally.

"And now I'm suddenly good enough, huh?"

Alex feels himself blush. "Look, I'm sorry, I ..." He's searching for words, not being used to apologize, not being used to have friends he can apologize to. He decides for the truth. "You have no reason to be nice to me, but I'm honestly sorry. And I really need your help. Darwin and I were training and I just can't ... control it sometimes. I hurt him."

Hank's gaze flies up to him, his expression now completely different: concerned and... curious. "I didn't think anything could."

Alex feels the stab to his guts, guilt sitting so firmly inside him, he hardly feels it anymore. "Well, I did, and I can't risk it happening again. And the professor says if anyone is able to help me, it's you."

Hank studies him for a long moment and Alex needs all his strength not to start squirming under his gaze. Then he nods.

"I can help you."

 

\-- 3//6 --

 

Charles glances up from the board, watching Erik watching his hands as he moves his knight.

It's late.

The children are in bed already, sleeping a peaceful, dreamless sleep, and Charles and Erik should do the same, head to bed and collect new strength.

But neither of them makes the first move, neither of them even giving the faintest hint that they should call this a night.

Erik's eyes flicker up, meeting Charles'.

"I believe you lost interest in the game," he states easily, Charles not able to decipher if he's meaning something else.

He looks at the other man and remembers what he's capable of, what he will do to Shaw once he gets the upper hand. With Charles' help.

The words still ring in his ear, Erik's determination to not just stop but to kill the man exactly the way Charles remembers.

And it's scaring him, how, without any doubt, Charles will help Erik again.

Erik tilts his head, studying Charles.

"Now I wonder what you're thinking, my friend," he only half jokes, and Charles looks to the floor, folding his hands, the game forgotten on the table.

"You know, I remember the moment I found you. Swimming in ice-cold water, trying to raise a submarine."

Erik huffs and Charles looks up, finding amusement on his friend's face.

"That shouldn't be such a hardship," Erik says, a smile playing around his mouth, "as it happened only a few weeks ago."

For a moment, Charles blanks out, memories falling together in his mind, and he's looking at the empty glass on the table, the empty bottle of wine right next to it, and he realizes that he drank a lot more than he intended to, most definitely more than he is used to now.

"Yes, yes of course, obviously," he hurries to say, feels himself blush. "What I meant is, I remember making the connection. Feeling you in the water, someone like me, and so strong, so ... determined."

He looks up and finds Erik hanging on his lips, waiting for him to go on.

"It's a moment I will always treasure, as long as I live." Charles promise is easily made, most of his life already making his words true.

Erik says nothing and at this point, Charles feels the distance between them, massive and insuperable.

He breaks the eye contact, suddenly not able to look at him only a second longer. His chest aches, burns, more painful than ever before and maybe he's just feeling the alcohol now.

Charles gets up from his chair, swaying immediately and Erik's up and at his side a heartbeat later, touching his shoulder to keep him upright.

Charles makes the mistake to look up, finding himself only inches away from Erik.

"I will lose you, won't I?" he whispers and the words ache inside Charles' chest, and he's struggling to stand upright, struggling to look at Erik while he's saying it.

"There is nothing I can do, nothing I can change." He looks at him, studies him, lost in his own thoughts, and for a moment Erik looks afraid, maybe of Charles trying to get inside his mind, read what's really in there.

But when Charles tries it, out of instinct, out of control, opening his mind to nudge at Erik's, the other man can easily block it out, keep Charles out.

Charles' heart sinks even more.

He's useless like this; he feels weak as a kitten, and maybe it's this time, maybe it's the jump, but maybe it's just Erik. Maybe it's always been just Erik that drives him to make poor decisions, that clouds his judgment and makes him feel hope where there clearly is none.

"Charles, you're drunk," Erik says, reaching out to steady him.

Charles huffs.

He almost bites his tongue, trying to keep the words in, not to spill that it's been years since he had this much to drink.

But then his words get stuck in his throat anyway as Erik steps closer, getting a better grip on him.

"You better go to bed, Charles," Erik says, voice low and soothing.

He's close, close enough that Charles can feel the heat of his body. Charles closes his eyes, letting himself fall into the feeling, savoring it. Erik will think he's swooning because of the alcohol; no one will ever know how much Charles relishes in the feeling of having Erik this close to him, how much he craves it right now.

"Charles," Erik says again and this time it's only a murmur.

Charles opens his eyes, blinking, as they meet Erik's.

"Yeah," he nods, stepping back, feeling the loss of Erik's warmth all the way up to his bedroom.


	5. four

\-- 4//1 --

 

"Aren't you missing your practice?" Darwin teases and Alex startles, looking up to find his friend walking into the hall.

"Not in the mood," Alex murmurs, turning his head again, going back to stare into the distance.

The last days had been tense between them. Stolen glances and awkward silences, and Alex hadn't been the one to make it better. Everytime he catches Darwin wince and rub the spot on his hip, Alex cringes, turning his eyes away, knowing that it's his mark Darwin is wearing.

It makes his stomach churn and his heart flutter at the same time and it's that combination that Alex can't stand.

That he can't look at Darwin without having this mess of feelings inside him.

Darwin hesitates a few feet next him; not moving closer but not moving away either.

He's feeling it, too.

"Hey, aren't those Erik and the professor?"

Darwin's words startle Alex for a second and then he shifts his focus, finding that his friend is right.

He's been staring out of the window for quite some time now, but he didn't notice the two men before.

"Yeah."

Darwin finally walks closer, getting a better view.

"What the ..." The words get stuck in Alex' throat.

The professor and Erik are down by the rail, standing close together.

The professor is pointing a gun at Erik's head.

 

\-- 4//2 --

 

"You know, I believe that true focus lies between rage and serenity." Charles keeps his voice level, tries to sound calm as he looks up to Erik at the handrail, in front of him the satellite dish.

Unmoving.

Yet.

The truth is, Charles is greedy with it, dizzy, wanting this, waiting for this since he came back and remembered all those lost moments between them.

He wants to go back inside Erik's head, with permission, invited, touching at that one beautiful memory that made both of them cry so many decades ago. Charles hasn't forgotten it since.

And he aches to feel it again.

"You want me to..." Charles makes a motion with his hand, waiting for Erik's permission, and when it comes, the short nod, he dives right in.

It’s beautiful.

Different than he remembers, deeper somehow, more real. As if Charles had treasured a pale and used memory, worn out with time.

Tears are glistening in Erik’s eyes, the same way they are burning in Charles’; Erik’s memory warming them both from the inside, touching something deep inside.

Connecting them.

"There's so much more to you than you know. Not just pain and anger. There’s good, too. I felt it.” The words come easy, like they did back then. They’re still the same words, and Charles still means them.

Erik keeps staring at him, doesn’t turn around to try his powers like the last time. His eyes are wild, tormented, and Charles wonders why his words cut so much deeper now, what he changed.

He takes a single step towards the other man, the need to comfort guiding him.

Erik’s eyes widen. Just a fraction, just that little bit, but it’s enough.

 

And there it is, the flap of the wings of the butterfly; the one, perfect moment. Where the world tilts, stops it's breathing, and everything can end any way.

Charles moves.

On instinct and without a single thought, emotions pushing him forward instead of words inside his head.

He pushes right into Erik's space, pushes his lips to Erik's lips.

Later, he will remember the sharp intake of breath he can hear from his friend, the flutter of his lips. He will remember how Erik had felt, soft and pliant and so incredibly warm, and how he had stood there, almost motionless.

Until Erik tilts his head, just a friction, just so, and the world starts to fall.

Charles hears a soft, low sound coming from his own throat, and he startles, pulling back and stumbling a few steps, his eyes wide in shock.

"I am... terribly sorry, Erik," he stutters, can't believe what he just did, can't believe that Erik let him.

Erik's face tells him nothing.

Horror's gripping him, tight and unyielding.

He wants to apologize a hundred times more, wants to take it all back, but the words get stuck inside his throat.

Thoughts are jumbling through his mind, in time with his pounding heart and he searches for explanations to what he just did.

"I didn't know," he whispers, more to himself than to Erik, his gaze turning inwards.

He didn't know.

His eyes dart up again, seeking answers on the other man's face.

 

"Hey! The president is about to make his address!" Moira shouts from one of the windows, the moment instantly broken.

Charles blinks one last time at Erik, but he's not getting anything, no nothing. He nudges into Erik's mind, desperate, helpless, but all he gets is an angry warning.

He could press further, could breach the walls Erik's holding up easily.

But he doesn't.

He pulls back, trotting after Erik back into the mansion.

 

What he didn't see, what he will never know, is that the dish moved. Just a fraction, just a few inches, but without Erik reaching for it. Without Erik even needing to look at it.

 

\-- 4//3 --

 

Alex's eyes are glued to the sight before him, to the scene that's playing out in the gardens, but all he can feel, all he can think about, is the man standing next to him.

Charles and Erik are kissing.

Kissing.

In plain sight, for everyone to see.

Two men. Kissing.

Alex' heart drums against his ribcage, his palms are sweaty, his throat dry.

He doesn't dare to move, doesn't dare to look to the side, to Darwin.

But he can hear him: the sharp intake of breath and then his breathing doubling its pace. It's like Alex can hear Darwin's heartbeat, too.

The other man is only inches away, their arms almost brushing.

They're standing way too close.

Alex can feel the warmth of the other man tingle against his bare skin, can smell the faint scent of his aftershave.

It's driving him insane.

It makes him ... want.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Darwin moving: turning towards him, edging closer.

Alex swallows dryly. His hands are starting shake.

"Alex," Darwin says, and his voice sounds rougher, deeper. He sounds hesitant, too.

Alex closes his eyes against the onslaught of ... feelings flooding through him.

He wants. He desperately wants like he's never experienced before and it throws him, scares the hell out of him.

"Alex?" Darwin asks again, takes another step until they're almost in each other's space, and he's reaching for Alex' hand, reaching out to touch him.

Alex stumbles back. Takes two steps until he's put some distance between them, his gaze flying up to his friend, recognizing the hurt he can see there, the disappointment.

Darwin's face goes blank and his posture changes.

"We should go down," he says, and his voice is cold now, slicing through Alex's guts. "We don't wanna miss the president's address."

 

\-- 4//4 --

 

Charles' heart thuds loudly in his chest. He only hears the blood rushing through his ears and not a single word from Kennedy telling the world about the chance of a war.

His palms are still sweaty, his lips tingling with the memory of Erik's lips on them, with the knowledge that they have shared this most intimate moment.

"I suggest we all get a good night's sleep." Erik's words bring Charles out of his thoughts, his head jerks around just to see his friend leaving the room. The gun is still in Erik's hand.

Charles is on his feet and following him without thinking. "Erik!"

He catches up with him in the hall, the other children just vanishing around the corner.

They're alone all of sudden, and Charles can't do anything but stare.

His throat is tight, no words coming out of his mouth. But he doesn't know what to say anyway. Doesn't know what to do.

All he knows is that there's an even more powerful ache inside his chest when he looks at Erik now. It's like his heart has expanded, only for the space to be taken up with more pain.

"Goodnight, Charles."

Erik turns around, each step he takes putting more and more distance between them.

Charles swallows. He nods and calls softly after him: "Goodnight, Erik."


	6. five

"Professor?"

Charles looks up wearing an expression of surprise, even though he had already heard Alex hovering on the other side of the door, obviously hesitant to enter. The boy's mind is loud enough for Charles to hear without even wanting to.

"You should be sleeping, Alex. Tomorrow's gonna be a hard day for all of us." He smiles, hoping it looks as neutral as he wants it to. "How can I help you?"

The young man clears his throat and takes a few steps further into the room. He looks utterly confused; something is clearly eating him up inside.

"Alex?" Charles asks again, concern entering his voice.

"I need you to show me what would have happened to Darwin in Washington," Alex says slowly. But he meets Charles' eyes, his posture speaking of determination.

Charles sighs. "Alex, I don't ..."

"Please," Alex cuts him off. "I need to know."

Charles hesitates. He remembers it. Every single painful second of it. He has seen it in all their minds, but most clearly in Alex's. He had felt the pain, tasted the guilt.

He's not sure if Alex is strong enough for that.

"Okay," Charles says, surprising himself. He gets up from his desk before he can change his mind, pushing up his sleeves, stretching out his hands to touch Alex's temples.

"Woah." Alex pulls back, his face turning a shade redder. He coughs and clears his throat without meeting Charles' eyes. "Can you do me a favor, professor? Please don't read my mind."

Charles has an idea what he's hinting at, what Alex is trying to hide. "I'm sorry," he tells him truthfully. "But I'm not sure if I can manage that once I build the connection."

Alex' face twists.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Alex." Charles reassures him, and it's the wrong move, he can see it when Alex' eyes widen.

"You've already seen it!" Alex shouts, and he closes up immediately, all his barriers up in full force.

"I'm sorry, Alex," Charles says, quickly, "but you've been... projecting rather loudly."

Alex hesitates, clenching his jaw, and Charles can practically see what's happening here. Alex is turning his embarrassment into anger, just like he learned to all those years ago.

"You're one to talk," Alex says finally: meaning it to hurt, meaning it to cut deep.

"Alex, what you saw was ..."

Alex's expression darkens, but something else mingles with it - doubt. "So, you and Erik? You're not ...?"

Charles swallows. "Am I not what, Alex?"

The young man tilts his chin up, a gesture he's subconsciously stolen from Sean. "Are you not in love with him?"

Charles looks at him thoughtfully, embarassement coloring his cheeks. "To be honest, at this point I'm not sure what my feelings are."

Even as he says it, Charles knows he's not being a hundred percent honest. He can feel the truth stirring, the dawning realization that's threatening to surface.

Only, he doesn't know if he's ready for it.

"Okay." Charles shakes off his thoughts, moves his shoulders like a fighter going into battle. "Are you sure?" Charles asks, his hands framing Alex's face again.

The boy nods, although he's nervous. Scared.

Charles touches Alex's temples, closing his eyes. He doesn't look forward to seeing this memory again; to pulling it back to the surface. The pain connected to it feels fresher here, deeper. A wound cut right open, although they prevented it.

We prevented it, Charles murmurs to himself.

And then he lets go.

 

\-- 5//2 --

 

Erik hesitates at his door, one hand hovering over the door knob.

He opens it eventually, lets himself in; his eyes settling on the guest inside his bed.

"Well, this is a surprise," he says.

"The nice kind?" Raven smiles up at him, clearly naked under the covers.

"Get out, Raven," Erik tells her, walking right by her to his desk. "I want to go to bed."

"Not even in a few years?"

Erik stops for a moment, then he turns to face her. Her skin flickers, as if she's starting to change her appearance, but something stops her. Her eyes are huge and confused when they meet Erik's gaze.

"You know where you're going to be in a few years?" he starts. "By my side. Strong, beautiful. You're not going to hide. You're not going to back down or let people tell you what to do. You can have want you want, be whoever you want. But all you're going to want to be is you."

He moves to sit down on the bed next to her. Raven's gaze doesn't waver from his face. "Because you're going to realize that you're perfection. And every minute covered up like you're someone else, is wasted."

He can see the impact of his words; tears threatening in her eyes.

But she doesn't cry. She's strong enough already to fight it.

"What about Charles?" she finally asks softly.

The question is hanging in the air, looming like a shadow over the two of them. It's the question. Always has been. Always will be.

Erik breaks eye-contact with Raven, angry at himself for being so weak. "Charles loves you," he tells her and it sounds pitiful even to his own ears, although they both know it's true.

"But he doesn't believe in me. Not like you."

Erik's gaze travels back to her. "Sometimes love is not enough."

 

\-- 5//3 --

 

"You know, sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if you hadn't found me here that night."

Charles closes his eyes.

He's still bending down, the fridge air chilly on his face, the bottle of wine cold and heavy in his hand.

A tiny part of him had hoped it wouldn't come to this; that he wouldn't find Raven in the kitchen, in the middle of the night, before the battle.

Coming straight from being with Erik.

That, somehow, stings more than it has any right to.

"Raven." Charles straightens, closing the door to the fridge.

"What?" Raven says, after a moment of silence. "No "God, Raven, put some clothes on?" No "please, behave decently"?"

Charles swallows heavily, and then he says what he really thinks, what he should have said all those years ago. What he regrets not having said to her every day for forty years.

"You're beautiful."

Raven is staring at him. He watches her falter, watches her hesitate before her eyes change.

Charles' heart sinks. It's too late; months or maybe even years, too late. All he can see in her eyes is distrust.

She sits down at the table and Charles follows, takes the seat opposite to her, facing the undeniable end to this conversation.

"You read my mind," she spits accusingly, and for a moment Charles wants to deny it, because he didn't. He doesn't. He knows that this is what she wants to hear, what he should have been telling her all along, because he spent years of his life regretting that he didn't know it back then.

"Until now, I never needed to," he says instead, close enough to the truth.

Raven leans forward. "You know, Charles, I used to think it was going to be you and me against the world," she starts saying.

Charles braces himself, knowing every word by heart.

"But no matter how bad the world gets, you don't want to be against it, do you? You want to be a part of it!"

"You're right," he says, low but loud enough for his sister to hear before she can get up and storm out of the room. "You're right, Raven. I believe in this world. I believe that it can change and that we can be a part of it. I will always believe that."

He takes a breath, looking down at the table before he's able to face her again.

He's never missed her more than right now, the moment he's silently saying goodbye to her, knowing full well, that whatever he says or does, whatever he is able to change, Raven will still leave him, eventually.

He can hear it in her mind, hear it scream and shout and struggle like an angry child, fighting at being restrained.

His chest aches with the thought, tears looming behind his eyes, but they don't fall: he doesn't let them.

Instead, he keeps looking at his little sister, seeing the person she will become, and it makes him proud of this strong, independent woman, going her own way, never questioning who she is.

Charles wishes it was his influence.

But it's all Erik. It's all going to be Erik.

Charles loves him even more for it.

Raven gets up anyway, looking right at him. "But I needed you to believe in me."

It's like a slap in the face when she leaves him alone in the kitchen.

It hurts even more when Charles realizes that this is a bridge they will never be able to cross.

 

\-- 5//4 --

 

"Yes, I'm coming! What the hell?" Darwin yanks open the door Alex had been jack-hammering on; the sound echoing down the hall.

"Alex?" Darwin throws him an incredulous look.

Alex still can't breathe. Not even when he's seeing him, looking at Darwin, alive.

The images the professor had shown him are burned inside his memory, hurting him, cutting him right open, letting him believe that it really happened.

It didn't.

Alex stares at the other man, and he still can't believe that it didn't.

Somewhere another door opens, the hinges screeching. "What the hell is going on?" Sean asks, peaking out of his room.

Alex doesn't even glance towards him, his eyes glued to his friend, his chest heaving.

"Alex?" Darwin asks once again, a little more forcefully this time. He seems to catch on to the emotional turmoil Alex is trying, and failing, to keep hidden.

"Can I come in?" Alex asks roughly.

Asks more than that.

"Sweet Jesus..., okay, ... so, I'll just leave you to it then, fellas..." Alex doesn't hear the door slamming, doesn't see Sean hastily rushing back into his room with wide eyes and red cheeks. He doesn't care.

The world could end right now around him and he wouldn't care.

Darwin's mouth falls open.

"Yeah," he breathes and that's all Alex needs.

He takes the final step, pushing Darwin back into his room with it, and he can't close the door fast enough, can't reach out for Darwin fast enough.

They crash into each other, hungry, starving for it.

Alex back hits the door, a faint pain hissing through his body, but all he can feel right now is Darwin. On and around him, his lips covering Alex's own, his hands traveling over his body.

"Shh, shh, easy," Darwin breaks them apart, but he is still clinging to him, his ragged breath hitting Alex's face and he loves it, wants more of it.

Alex doesn't wait. He dives back in, claiming Darwin's mouth, letting his tongue attack those beautiful lips until he's granted entrance, until he can taste the other man.

Alex groans, all his blood rushing south, and he turns them, pressing Darwin up against the door.

"Alex," the other man gasps as soon as he can, sucking in air as Alex bites kisses into his neck. "Alex," he says again, catching him, turning up his head so their eyes meet.

Alex is trembling with need, Darwin's eyes black with lust just like his own.

"Not going anywhere," Darwin rushes out between gulps of breath and it doesn't make sense at first, doesn't get through to Alex's mind.

"I'm not going anywhere," he says again and it breaks something in Alex's chest, let's him surge forward, touching his lips back to Darwin's, just to feel him alive.

 

\-- 5//5 --

 

Charles is standing at the door for full five minutes, the bottle in his hand getting heavy, and his fingers becoming clammy from the cold.

He doesn't even know what he's doing here, what he's trying to do. Not when Erik had dismissed him so clearly earlier.

He's raised his hand to knock three times and stopped before he could do it.

The door opens before he can try and fail a fourth time.

"I can feel the metal from your belt," Erik informs him, his tone a soft mixture between amusement and something Charles can't grasp; or doesn't know if he's brave enough to.

Erik steps to the side and lets Charles in; Charles nodding to him, raising the bottle to indicate why he's here, but once he's inside Erik's bedroom, he places it on the dresser and forgets all about it.

"Why did you come here, Charles?" Erik asks, his voice vibrating through the room. He widens his stance, crossing his arms over his chest, and throwing Charles a look that on other people would have looked curious. On Erik it looks calculating.

"To apologize?" Charles knows it's a mistake to phrase it as a question, even as the words are leaving his mouth. "I am... not really sure, I admit." He doesn't say anything more, doesn't give Erik anything more, and his friend only keeps looking at him, not offering anything in return.

This is a turning point, Charles can feel it. One of many he had witnessed and missed before. But there are no words inside his head, nothing he can say that will make a difference.

"Maybe," he says, swallows heavily, then goes on," this is a mistake. We should all rest. Tomorrow is gonna be a long day."

And Charles' last chance, he knows it well enough. It's carved inside his heart, all the mistakes he made that day, all the mistakes he let Erik make. He has one more day to turn everything around.

It doesn't feel like enough time.

But then again, with all time in the world, Charles looks at Erik once again and doesn't know if he would ever find a way.

"Have a good night, my friend." Charles nods, turns to the door and passes his friend who doesn't move at all. His heart heavy, already beating with regret, he grabs for the door knob.

It doesn't turn.

Charles eyes widen and his heartbeat picks up immediately; his breath coming faster, stronger. He doesn't read Erik's mind, but Erik's intentions - his desires - are suddenly right there for Charles to feel, to taste, as if Erik's not holding back anymore.

"Erik," Charles says, wants to say, but it comes out as a gasp. "Unlock the door, please."

Erik doesn't answer, but Charles hears him move, feels him coming closer.

Charles doesn't dare to turn around. He's closing his eyes, soaking up the feeling of Erik looming over him, so much taller and stronger than him; so much more powerful.

He can't help it, his control slips out of his grasp without meaning to, and his mind grazes Erik's.

He gasps at the echo he can feel of his own thoughts.

Charles leans forward, a hand resting next to his head against the cold wooden door. It's what he needs; it's what centers him against the fire burning into his back.

Erik is close now, their bodies not touching, but Erik's warm breath brushes the nape of Charles' neck.

"Erik."

Desire ripples through him, there's little use trying to deny it, and yet Charles is frozen to the spot.

"Show me," Erik says, right inside Charles' head, right under his skin, and Charles moans helplessly.

And he does.

Charles is too far gone for shame: images of them kissing, of them grinding against each other flow out of his mind straight into Erik's. Images that show him pressing harsh kisses against Erik's hipbone; licking a path down his spine to the start of that dark shadowy crease. An image showing Erik holding him down, both of them sweaty and breathless. Wordless sounds of pleasure being pulled from their throats.

"Gütiger Gott," Erik gasps behind him, and Charles shudders; the knowledge that Erik is losing his control making him dizzy.

The door is probably unlocked now, but Charles doesn't want to leave anymore.

Instead, he turns around slowly, averting his eyes, his pulse racing.

He doesn't know if he can do this. Then again, he doesn't know how not to.

When he finally looks up, when their eyes finally meet, they're only the fraction of an inch apart, Erik's chest touching Charles with every shaky breath.

Erik looks devestated. His eyes dark with want and need; his hands trembling.

Charles closes his eyes first. Then he closes the distance between them, because it's exactly the way he is feels too.

They don't kiss at first. Their lips meet, fit together perfectly, sliding right into each other. But they don't move, both of them breathing heavily, drawing in each other's breath.

Charles will never remember who moved first, who broke first. But he hears a thin, needy sound and knows that it's coming from him and he feels as much as he hears Erik's answering moan.

Then all attempt of control is gone and they're pushing and pulling at each other.

The kiss is almost painfuly gentle and tender; the exact counterpart to the hands pulling him impossibly closer, ripping his shirt out of his pants and almost in two. Charles is no better. His own hands find their way underneath Erik's clothes, desperate for every inch of skin he can find, letting his fingertips sliding over the soft, warm, unfamiliar flesh.

"God, the way you feel," Charles gasps, stupid with want, but he can't stop staring, can't stop touching, as if Erik's the biggest mystery in the world and only for Charles to discover.

The stumble over to the bed, Charles is only realizing it when he falls backwards onto it. Erik following him down, his body covering Charles'.

Charles pulls him up, spreading his own legs to fit Erik between them perfectly, and he can see the wonder in Erik's eyes, the surprise at the amount of trust he's been given, even through the haze of lust clouding his gaze.

Charles has never seen something more beautiful than Erik holding himself over him, their bodies only inches apart. Piercing eyes stare down at him, pupils blown wide.

„Off,“ he breathes, clawing at Erik’s shirt. “Take that off.” He’s desperate with it, can’t bear to wait a second longer. “Please,” he whispers, meeting Erik’s eyes.

They’re still for a moment, silent, only their breathing echoing off the walls.

“Erik.”

Doubt is crawling up his spine, nasty and painful, Erik’s hesitation only making it worse.

“Please.”

Charles cannot remember ever being this turned on, his skin itching, his blood pulsing in his groin, sweet and painful.

But he holds on to the last bit of control he still has and doesn’t move.

He can feel Erik’s body heat, the other man only a breath away from him, and he can smell him, wild and strong and male.

Charles draws a deep breath, swallows thickly. His throat is dry, his lips swollen, and he feels raw, open. He’s completely at Erik’s mercy, maybe even more than the other man realizes.

His powers are slipping, only able to touch Erik’s mind on the surface.

“Gott, wie ich dich vermisst habe,” Erik whispers, and Charles doesn’t understand what Erik’s saying, only feels a sense of longing, of deep seated desire.

Finally, Erik moves. He sits up just long enough to pull his shirt over his head, giving Charles one moment to look at him, really look at him, before he leans down and captures Charles’ lips with his own.


	7. six

Erik wakes up in the middle of the night, not used to another person beside him, the unfamiliar warmth burning into his back.

They have moved during the night, Erik now lying with his back turned to Charles, and Charles pressed against him.

Spooning him.

It feels good, ridiculously so, being engulfed in the other man's warmth, his complete trust.

His love.

Erik can't take a single second more of this.

He untangles himself carefully, swift, precise movements, until he's out of the bed and in his clothes, leaving the room that still smells of them. Leaving Charles behind.

His feet take him to the chess room, far away from everyone, far enough from Charles who's still reaching out in his dreams, whose mind is still grazing Erik's.

He'd missed that feeling.

God, how much he'd missed that.

 

It's only minutes later when Erik hears the sound of feet on the floor in the corridors, finding him in that room.

"You couldn't sleep?" Charles asks quietly.

He's standing by the door, in nothing but Erik's robe, and the sight is breaking Erik's heart, filling him with a burning anger, because it hurts. It hurts, and Charles Xavier shouldn't be able to hurt him like this anymore. Not after all these years.

"What was your plan?" Erik asks coldly; his voice a sharp contrast to Charles' tone.

Erik can't look at him, doesn't want to see the moment Charles catches on.

Charles makes few steps towards him and then stops, as if their distance couldn't be crossed by walking. "What are you talking about, Erik?" He sounds on edge and confused, and Erik knows that he's about to break Charles once again.

Just like himself.

It's who they are. Bound to be their saviors. And their killers.

Erik looks up, turns his eyes to the wall. "You should have killed me when you had the chance," he says, repeats.

"Erik."

"Turn around," Charles thinks and he's louder in Erik's head, stronger, more painful. "Please."

Erik does. Slowly, meeting Charles' eyes dead on.

"Erik," Charles gasps, and the name sounds different now, like he's using it for a different person. From a different time.

"I jumped with you," Erik says flatly.

 

"What was your plan?" he asks again, because he needs to know, had wanted to know from the second he found out that Charles had found Bethany. That he had found a way to go back. "Saving Darwin? Keeping Raven at your side? Showing me the alternative? The family we could have been? Or was it to lure me into your bed?" He spits the last words out and his lips smile, but it's cold and painful, the smile not reaching his eyes.

Color starts spreading over Charles' cheeks, his hands clenching into fists.

He stares at Erik for an endless time, every single emotion clear enough on his face for everyone to see.

But it's only Erik who sees him fall apart in front of him.

Who sees the betrayal, the crushed hope. The helplessness.

The strongest mutant among their kind, as Erik still believes, and he watches him break by simple spoken words.

"I would never," he starts, but he doesn't finish. Charles looks down and closes his eyes, as if it's too painful for him to look at Erik. "Falling ... for you, was not part of the plan," he whispers.

Erik wants to believe him so badly, he almost starts forward; the need to hold Charles like a physical ache. Even so, he doesn't move. This is about more than that, more than just them. 

“Why?" Erik catches his friend's gaze. "Why all this? Why do you keep fighting?”

Charles’ smile is bitter, but honest. “I have to. Erik, I have to.”

Erik wants to throttle him, to make him see the truth in front of him he’s turning blind eyes to. "America has never seen a black president. “Don’t ask, don’t tell” is still standard procedure in the military. And yet you still believe this nation is ready to accept us?" Erik can feel his anger bleeding through, can hear the metal around them singing, already vibrating with anticipation.

Charles flicks his tongue over his lips, frowning. "Give them time, Erik. All mankind needs is enough time."

"They've already had forty years of our lives!"

His last word echoes through the room, bouncing off the walls. Making their distance seem bigger.

"Why?" he asks again, the question burning in his mind. “Why did you take this risk? You can lose more than just an enemy, my friend.”

Charles smiles, his eyes empty. “You’re not my enemy, Erik.”

He takes a breath, goes on. "You said it yourself. The first time. You need me by your side," Charles eyes dart up at him, utterly broken. "I feel the same. I believe that, with you by my side, on our side, the world could be a better place. I could be a better man."

Erik swallows, can't contain his composure a second longer. He takes a few steps towards his friend, Charles not backing away, even after everything he learned.

"You didn't come back for Darwin? For Raven?" He can't quite believe it, even though the guilt in Charles' eyes tell him that he's right. "You came back for me?"

 

6//2

 

Alex tries his best to be downstairs before everyone else, sneaking out of Darwin's room and back into his, having a shower and putting on fresh clothes, before anyone notices what's been going on.

He's about to sigh in relief when he meets Sean in the kitchen, the other boy wearing a huge grin on his face.

Alex' face turns red immediately, blood rushing into his cheeks, and for a minute he contemplates turning around and running like a little kid.

Sean obviously notices his discomfort; his expression morphs into a frown. "Dude," he shrugs. "Works for me. All the more ladies for the Banshee."

Alex is too stunned to speak.

Sean gives him another grin before turning away and closing the door to the fridge. Only now Alex notices that he's trying to balance a box of cereal, a bowl, a milk carton and a spoon to the kitchen table.

He's still frozen to the spot, practically gaping at Sean, when the others stroll in.

Raven shoots him a side glance, smiles misteriously when their eyes meet. Moira doesn't seem to notice anything different, and goes about her usual breakfast routine without even so much as glancing at Alex.

He still feels as though what he has done is tattooed on his forehead, like he looks different today.

Like he is a new person.

Alex swallows heavily.

The professor is the worst. He doesn't seem to see anybody else when he comes in, walking to his chair without a greeting, without even looking at them. He starts eating, not noticing that they're not all here yet.

For a moment, Alex forgets his own issues and wonders what happened last night that put that look on the professor's face. He wonders where the hell Erik is.

"Alex?" Raven smiles up at him, waving her hand. "Sit down and grab something to eat. You must be really hungry this morning." Her face gives nothing away, but Sean snorts next to her, almost spraying his milk over the table.

Moira looks up at that, her eyes flying between the teenagers at the table, and Alex hurries to his seat, not wanting to draw any more attention.

"Where the hell is Hank?" Sean wonders out loud between two spoons full of cereal.

The table goes quiet. "Charles?" Raven asks, her voice having a tiny edge.

"Yes?" The professor looks up as if he's just noticing everyone else in the room.

"Where's Hank?" Raven asks again, obviously smart enough not to ask her brother where Erik was too.

The professor doesn't answer immediately. He tilts his head a little, his hand hovering in midair as if he wanted to put a finger to his temple and then forgot all about it.

He coughs, swallows, and Alex sees him go pale. "I forgot about Hank," he whispers to himself, which makes no sense to Alex at all, but then the professor's eyes go back to his food. "He won't be joining us for breakfast," he says loud enough for everyone to hear.

And that's it. The professor says nothing more, doesn't explain anything.

Alex and Sean trade a questioning glance and Raven looks as if she wants to ask more but then decides against it.

"Mornin'," another voice says and Alex feels ridiculous as his stomach flutters when Darwin walks into the kitchen. He bluhes furiously, feels his face heat up even more when their eyes meet, and Darwin throws him a quick, private smile over the table.

"Okay, how's that fair?" Sean exclaims." "I look like death warmed over when all I actually did yesterday was sleeping and this guy..." He waves a hand at Darwin," looks like he's been resting for a whole week, when clearly he wasn't getting much sleep at all."

This time it's Raven who sputters and almost chokes on her food and Alex simply wants the floor to open and swallow him up.

 

6//3

 

Charles stares down at the box marked with the X. He doesn't want to open it, knowing that he has to. Time is running out; he feels it with every beat of his heart. Memories are already overlapping, things changing in the future that make his memories blurry and untrue.

He can feel the pull of the present already, demanding him back.

With Erik here with him now, the real Erik, his Erik; weeks became days; Logan's strength not enough to keep the two of them longer in this moment.

Charles closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

His hand reaches for the the box.

 

Hank looks at them, fur covering all of his face, his eyes almost completly yellow.

Erik is with them now, joining them once again for their final battle.

Charles almost can't breathe in his suit.

 

Charles catches Erik's eyes over the open bomb bay doors, Sean at his side, ready to jump. He pulls his focus away from the other man, concentrating on Sean for this one precious moment.

There's still everything at stake, still nothing won yet.

Charles heart aches only more when he watches Erik following Sean's every move, prepared to help him if he's needed, as the young boy jumps with a loud scream.

 

Their minds connect easily. Now that the secrets have gone, Charles is choking on the power traveling between them, making them both stronger, making them both something far more powerful than either of them alone will ever reach.

Charles doesn't close his eyes this time, just keeps them firmly locked on Erik, watching the other man raising the submarine from the bottom of the sea.

It's mind-blowing, their connection growing, cementing, and Charles knows that he's on the verge to become addicted to this. To Erik.

To them.

 

Charles should have known.

That no matter what he did or said, they would always end up at this point.

Erik would always be the one in the submarine, searching for Shaw, and Charles connected to his mind.

By his side.

Even forty years and a hundred of bad decisions didn't change anything for them.

Charles is leaning against the wall of the plane, one finger tipped to his temple, because this is hard, the hardest thing he had ever done. The first time he had been following Erik blindly, concerned about his safety but this time...

... this time he's following him knowing what will come, what Erik will do.

Or better yet, what they will do together.

"Ready?" Erik asks inside his mind and Charles can see how he's watching the door to the hidden room, the one Shaw will open any second now.

"No," Charles tells him truthfully.

"We have to do this, Charles," Erik reminds him, and for a moment Charles is sure that there's regret in his voice.

"I know."

 

The sky is dark above them, missiles, bombs - every powerful, deadly threat human kind is so proud of cluttering the air, swimming like clouds above them.

Erik is keeping them there.

And Charles can see it on his face clear as day, that once again his fingers twitch with the ache to turn them around, to let them just fall back on the humans he hates so much.

He hesitates this time.

Age and years not changing his view but making him consider, making him think of the consequences.

"Please, Erik, don't do it," Charles pleads with him anyway. "A massacre is not gonna help any of us."

Erik moves his head, his eyes locking with Charles'.

"I will never understand, how after all these years, you're still fighting for them."

His words are dancing between them, deepening the gap. Erik will never understand and Charles will never be able to make him understand.

Charles knows that now, knows that trying to change anything between them this way, is the wrong one.

"Release them!" a voice cuts through their silence, Moira walking up to Erik, her gun raised.

Sheer panic rushes through Charles' veines at the sight of it. He had forgotten about the gun, had forgotten what it will do to him.

But then Erik sneers at her, eyeing the weapon.

"You believe you can use that against me?" Erik blinks, once, twice, and the trigger moves without Moira touching it.

Nothing happens.

"No bullets," Charles gasps, not able for any other reaction than this.

Erik's gaze meets his. "I'm no fool, Charles. I learn from my mistakes."

 

The sky is on fire suddenly, one missile exploding, Erik obviously losing focus for a moment, and then the air is loud and thick with dust, metal raining down around them.

Charles can't say anything, can't react to Erik's words, when a sudden sharp pain bites through his back.

 

6//4

 

Time stops. Everything stops.

Erik feels a scream building up in his throat, feels anger, fury, hatred, guilt - feels all that colliding, twitching, crashing into each other to build something new, something darker. Something more dangerous.

Just like the last time.

Only this time he knows what it means the second he sees Charles being spun around by the power of the impact.

"NO!" Erik screams and runs to Charles, runs to his friend, as he falls; face set in a silent scream; silent where Erik is loud, his body broken where Erik's heart is shattering into pieces.

"No, Charles, no!" Erik kneels in the sand, cradling Charles in his arms, feeling for the metal immediately He draws it out of the soft, breakable body as if it was gliding through butter.

But the damage is done.

Erik knows that with a dreadful certainty.

"No, no, no," he chants, over and over, his voice thick with grief and denial. Erik doesn't even realize that he's saying it until Charles' eyes meet his and Charles' hand on his silences him.

"This wasn't supposed to happen this time," Erik whispers.

He ignores the missiles exploding around them, falling dead into the ocean. He doesn't spare a thought for the men - Russians and Americans - uniting to fight against him, them, the mutants.

Everything else doesn't matter.

"I was going to prevent this, Charles," Erik presses Charles' hand; he's probably hurting him, but Charles doesn't complain, doesn't say anything.

Just keeps holding on.

"Out of everything, this was the one thing I wanted to make right." Erik is choking now, on tears and guilt, so much guilt. He failed, again. Has failed his friend.

Charles smiles weakly, draws in a pained breath. "It seems as if fate isn't that easy to trick, Erik."

Erik goes out of his mind.

Metal is singing all around him, whispering to him like a hearbeat, shifting, waiting for his command.

All it will take is one more thread to snap. Erik is so close to losing it.

"Charles," he says again, not caring how he sounds: broken and whimpering. It just can't happen again.

Charles squirms in his hold, trying to move, and Erik wills him to stay still; holds him closer, tighter, until Charles lift a hand to Erik's face.

Erik can't help but lean into the touch.

"We don't have much time," Charles whispers, and he looks stricken, unbearably sad. "I failed."

Erik shakes his head, wants Charles to understand. "No. No, you didn't. Darwin is alive because of you. You saved a life."

"I couldn't safe you."

"But don't you understand," Erik pleads with him. "No one can safe me. Not even you."

Charles shakes his head slowly. "No my friend, you're wrong. And I will find a way," he whispers, and Erik is so angry at him, so angry for not giving up on him, and he's exploding with it, exploding with the deep seated trust Charles keeps showing him.

Erik grits his teeth and says nothing.

Around him the missiles have stopped exploding. It's eareely quiet now.

"Would you forgive the weakness of an old man, Erik?" Charles catches his gaze again and Erik can see that something is tormenting him - something other than all the madness around them.

"Charles?"

Charles braces himself; appears to be taking a deep breath. "There's something I need to know."

Erik's world narrows down to the man in his arms as he watches him struggle to breathe, struggle to find the words. "Anything. Just ask me!"

And Erik wonders if his world has been like this since he met Charles, since he was pulled out of the water by a blue-eyed man who had more trust in the world than Erik hatred in his heart.

Focues on Charles. Tuned in to that one person.

"Erik, am I ... am I the only one?"

Erik swallows heavily, his heart burning in his chest. He hates that Charles even feels the need to ask - that he was scared to do so.

"No." Erik grips him tighter, locking their gazes, and opens his mind so that Charles will never have any doubt about this.

He can feel the moment Charles enters his mind, just like he always could, and he shares the wonder and relief when Charles finds what Erik had kept buried like a treasure inside him for so long.

"You're not alone, Charles. You're not alone."

 

6//5

 

The pain doesn't vanish suddenly. When Charles blinks again, they're back. Thousands of miles and dozens of years back in a future he doesn't know anymore. Doesn't want anymore.

He's lying on the floor and his back hurts in a way he hasn't felt in fourty years. But the pain is already easing slowly, ebbing away with every breath Charles takes.

He looks around and finds Erik sitting on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall.

He's breathing heavily, his face is pale.

Their eyes meet.

There are more people in the room, staring at them, talking to them. Charles knows that distantly, but he only has eyes for Erik; the old man who's looking at him like he is the only thing in the world that really matter.

Charles' heart breaks a second time.

He blinks, turns his head away because it's too painful; he failed yet again and he can't look his failure in the eyes anymore. Erik will leave again, be on the other side again.

Erik is lost.

To him. To the world.

Charles clenches his jaw. His legs are numb. The ghost of feeling is gone, and he shifts awkwardly, trying to find a position on the floor that doesn't hurt his back.

There's something nudging at his hip and then he's being lifted, floating through the air like he is nothing, weightless, and then he's sat back into his chair, the cold metal framing his body.

Charles can't help but look up, and he finds Erik standing, finds Magneto looking at him, his hand tilted just a small fraction, his eyes full of regret.

"Professor!" another voice finally cuts through, and it's Logan looking between him and Magneto, his eyes wild and uncertain. Next to him is Hank, shielding Bethany and her mother behind him, and he's staring at Raven, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

Not even a full minute seems to have passed; Erik and Charles jumping back right where they left.

Charles own eyes fall on Raven now. She's in her blue form, gracefully standing next to Erik, and Charles wonders how he ever could fail to notice her incredible beauty. How he couldn't see the sadness lingering in her eyes whenever she looked at him.

He can see it now. He can feel it now.

Raven is as lost to him as she always was. And he wonders which of them is more grieved by that.

"Professor!" Logan shouts once again, ready to fall into action, his whole body thrimming with untamed energy.

Charles's eyes meet Erik's again, still silently communicating.

"Let them go," Charles tells Logan, not once moving his gaze away from his old friend.

"But Prof..."

"Please," he interrupts Logan quietly.

Logan falls silent.

There's an odd energy filling the room, charged high with buzzing adrenaline, but Erik and Raven turn quietly around, walking through the door and leaving, their footsteps echoing in the hall.

"Professor, are you alright?" Hank steps forward, his voice recovering its strength.

Charles nods. There's nothing else to do. Even if it's the cruelest lie he has ever told.

"Let's go home, please."

 

6//6

"Professor?"

Her voice is quiet and careful and Charles finds a small, uncertain smile on her face when he turns around to find Marie at his door.

"Yes?" He offers her a small smile of his own; it's all that he's capable of right now.

He mourns.

And it feels worse than the first time, when he had all the anger and disappointment to hold on to.

This time, he only tries to breathe against the crushing weight of the emptiness inside him.

"You've got a visitor," Marie tells him, and he doesn't need to read her mind to realize how long it must have taken her to decide if she even wanted to disturb him for the news.

"Alex," Charles says, reading it in her thoughts without meaning to, and a new energy grips him. Familiar footsteps approach and Marie slips out of the room, trading places with the fair haired young man.

"Hey, Professor."

Alex's grin is wide and fresh, so honest and young, it makes Charles' heart ache. It's good to see him; very good.

He doesn't look a day older than when Charles had last seen him. Forty years ago.

"Hey, man," another man swaggers into the room, mirroring the smile on Alex's face.

"Darwin." Charles can barely hide his surprise, but he manages to keep from openly staring.

Of course: Darwin lived.

In this world, Darwin is alive.

Charles doesn't really remember the small changes they made - and the important ones are only coming back to him slowly, like long forgotten memories.

"You both look good," Charles smiles at them. "Young." He shakes both their hands, holding them in his for a moment.

"Well, I promised the whole growing old together thing," Alex says, but his eyes rest on his friend, his partner. "And that's a damn hardship when he doesn't age one bit."

The two men share a private glance; Charles almost feeling like he's intruding.

Then Darwin rolls his eyes, facing him again. "Well, it's actually Hank helping us out. I don't know what we'd do without him."

Alex nods. "We owe Beast a lot, actually."

Charles takes a deep breath, savoring the feel of his heart swelling with happiness. The young man keep talking, telling Charles about their journey here, about home and the things they've seen, the people they've met.

It aches to listen to them, aches seeing them; but in a good way - a healing way.

"Alright, professor," Darwin announces, clapping Alex on his chest. "We've taken up enough of your time, already."

Charles smiles again, sensing a sudden change in Alex, a hesitation.

The young man takes a deep breath.

"You think my brother's ready to greet some visitors?"

Alex looks at him and suddenly Charles can see it - the age in his eyes, a new maturity.

He is not longer the same troubled adolescent, trying to find his place in the world. Too many things have happened.

Charles nods. "I think Scott will be delighted to see you, Alex."

"Come on," Darwin spurs him on. "We traveled ten hours so you could be there for him. I think you let him wait long enough now." He nods to Charles, pushing the other man gently out of the room.

"Thank you," Charles hears, and only then realizes, that Alex hadn't said it out loud. He catches the look on Alex's face, and knows that there's more layers of meaning there than the words could ever contain.


	8. epilogue

Grief.

It never stops.

It shifts, changes, weakens. It crawls so deep inside you, most of the time you won't notice it's still there. But it never leaves. It never just vanishes.

And sometimes, it reappears, reawakens.

Cutting deeper than ever before.

Charles doesn't know how long he's been staring out of the window, his door closed as is his mind.

Just like he wishes he could close his heart.

He notices Alex outside, standing close to Darwin, both men talking to a small group of the younger children. Darwin uses his whole body to explain something to them, his gestures big, and the children are laughing, the sound of it almost reaching Charles’ window.

It eases the pain in his chest a little, watching Alex and Darwin, alive and happy. Together.

Charles thoughts travel to Erik, to the changes their relationship took through the last very few weeks. Now, in the light of day and miles and miles apart from him, he wonders if the changes are really that big, that profound.

He comes to the conclusion that no, they didn’t really change.

They only added to what they always had been: companions.

Two sides of one coin, bound by it, kept apart by it.

There is a small smile on his face when he remembers Erik looking at him, his young face, his old eyes, trusting him with the gun once again behind the mansion.

Remembers how there had been no bullets in Moira’s gun at the beach.

Charles takes a deep breath.

There’s still hope.

 

\--//The End//--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you everyone who went on this journey with me! Thank you for all the kudos and the comments! This is my first try with the X-Men universe and I hope I didn't mess around too much ;) Thank you for reading!


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